Don's eyes shot open
and he lay in the bed, trying to determine what had disturbed his
slumber. He concentrated in the dark and listened for any sound that
might alert him to the feeling of unease creeping into his system.
Charlie, he suddenly thought. Tonight's the night.

He groaned and, using
only his good arm, struggled to sit up in bed. Don squinted at the
alarm clock and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Any minute now,
he thought as he waited silently.

"No!" He heard
Charlie's muffled cry through the wall separating their bedrooms.

It's almost scary
how well I know him, Don idly thought. His father had told him
growing up that he had an uncanny knack for sensing Charlie's
distress and, purely on instinct, finding a way to soothe him and
make his problems disappear. Don had blown off his father's words at
the time, but as he had gotten older he'd begun to understand that
his father had been absolutely right.

Tonight is no
exception, Don thought as he levered himself out of bed and
quietly padded out of his room and into the hallway. He knew he'd
woken up because it was time for Charlie to face his demons, and he
was going to need every single bit of help Don could provide.

He slipped into his
little brother's room and could just make out Charlie's outline in
the dim moonlight coming from the bedroom window. His brother was
sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched with his gaze glued
to the floor. Don silently walked around the bed and sank onto the
mattress next to the younger man.

"You should be
asleep," Charlie stated flatly.

"So should you,"
Don countered.

"I'm not
recovering from a major injury."

"No," Don agreed.
"But you are recovering from a major trauma."

"Not the same."

"No, yours is worse."

He lifted his gaze and
met Don's eyes. "How do you figure that?"

"Surgery, pain meds
and rehab can fix my hurt." Don lowered his voice and leaned close
to his brother. "It's no so easy to fix yours."

Charlie mumbled
unconvincingly, "I'm fine."

"Knock it off,
Buddy." The words were harsh, but Don's tone was gentle. "I've
been there before."

"Really?" the
professor snorted. "You've led your brother into a death trap and
then watched as some lunatic tries to kill him in front of you?"

"First," Don said
sharply. "You did not lead me into a death trap. You did
what you had to do to get me help. I wouldn't be here right now if
you hadn't. Got that?" Charlie shrugged, so Don grabbed his
shoulder with his left hand and gave him a hard, borderline
uncomfortable squeeze. "I said, got that?"

"Sure," Charlie
replied half-heartedly.

"Second, I have
watched as some lunatic tried to kill my brother in front of me. Or
are you forgetting the sniper case?"

Even in the dim light,
Don could see Charlie's face grow pale. "I hadn't forgotten it,"
he whispered, his shaky voice almost inaudible.

"Then why'd you think
I wouldn't understand that?" Don gave him a perplexed look as he
tried to make a connection between their most recent ordeal and the
sniper case.

"Never mind."
Charlie dropped his gaze back to the floor and clenched his fists in
his lap.

"Buddy," Don
whispered pleadingly. "You've got to open up. I can tell – Dad
can tell – that this is eating you up inside. Even if you don't
want to talk to me, you need to talk to someone."

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare say
fine," Don snapped angrily. "We had a string of horrendous cases
and decided to take a vacation, I got hurt and you had to lead me to
safety – which you did. You even managed to get us through a
scrape with two different madmen. One might have been with a little
luck, but the second was all your doing. We never would have escaped
if you hadn't had the nerve to shoot him."

"I don't want to talk
about it."

Realizing Charlie
wasn't going to forgive himself without a shove in the right
direction, Don changed tactics. "You know, Charlie," he quietly
whispered. "I wish I'd never showed you how to fire a rifle. If I
hadn't, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Charlie looked up in
shock. "Don't say that," he whispered back. "If you hadn't
shown me, then I couldn't have kept Gary from hurting you."

"But look at how
depressed you are," Don responded. "I'm not sure it was worth
it."

Charlie glared at Don
through the pale moonlight. "Don't you ever say that again!" he
yelled. "You're my brother and I would do anything for you!"

"Including kill a man
if my life was in danger?"

Charlie sighed,
flopping back on the mattress and studying the ceiling. "You make
it sound so simple."

"It is
simple," Don told him. "The choice was simple – kill an evil
man to save a loved one, that's a no-brainer. The act itself was more
difficult because you haven't had the years of training like I have."
Don carefully lay back next to his brother and placed his left hand
over Charlie's. "It's the aftermath that's hard, even for me."

"Really?" Charlie
inquired. "You still have a hard time with it?"

"God yes, Charlie.
It's never easy to deal with killing someone, no matter how justified
it is."

"How many men have
you had to kill?"

"Charlie..."

"Please, Don," he
begged. "I need to know."

Don gave a weary sigh
as he studied the darkened ceiling. "Three."

"Three," the
younger man repeated thoughtfully. "And you never get used to it?"

"Used to it?" Don
asked in surprise. "No, I don't. And if I ever did, it would be
time for me to find a new job." Don laced his fingers through his
brother's and turned his head to study Charlie's profile. "But you
can learn to deal with it. You have to learn to deal with it
if you're going to survive."

"How?" Charlie
asked, sounding every bit like he did when he was five and Don could
make him all better just by giving him a hug.

"Talk to someone. A
professional, I mean. I hated the idea at first, but they really do
help." Sensing Charlie's nervousness, Don smiled warmly. "I could
get you in with one of the FBI's psychologists. Or I'm sure Megan
would love to offer her help."

"I'm not sure about
Megan," Charlie thought aloud. "I'm sure she'd be great, but
she's such a good friend. I'd feel weird confessing my soul to her on
a professional level."

"I can understand
that," Don agreed. "I can see if I can get you in to see the one
I talked to after I shot Chandler Yates."

Charlie couldn't
suppress a shudder as he remembered the pervert who drugged women,
killed them, and posed them to look like overdoses. Nor could he
suppress a second shudder as he thought about how close he'd come to
losing his brother then, too.

"Charlie?" Don
asked worriedly.

"Sorry, just
thinking. That sounds like a good idea Don. See if you can get me
in."

"Glad to hear you say
that." Don let out a loud yawn and started to rise. "I guess I
should let you get back to sleep."

"Wait," Charlie
said, grabbing Don's left forearm to stop him. "As long as you
aren't too uncomfortable, maybe you could stay here."

Don tried to determine
if that was a statement or a request, but then decided he didn't
care. "Sounds good, Buddy. Just hand me a pillow."